


The Power to Redefine Picnics

by Sandbirde



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Earth C (Homestuck), F/F, God Tier, Headaches & Migraines, Picnics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandbirde/pseuds/Sandbirde
Summary: Rose and Kanaya have a cute picnic date.Written for the 2019 HS Big Bang: New Beginnings!





	The Power to Redefine Picnics

**Author's Note:**

> This fic includes the following art as accompaniment:  
> https://pugetsound.tumblr.com/post/185914367474/kanaya-smirks-her-fangs-poking-out-onto-her this piece by pugetsound on Tumblr,  
> https://twitter.com/ratmacabre/status/1138902093916516353?s=21 this piece by ratmacabre on Twitter and Insta, and  
> https://twitter.com/lunarabstracted/status/1136806315056148480?s=21 this piece by lunarabstracted on Twitter!
> 
> I had a lot of fun with this one. I tried to be very deliberate in what I described and what I left vague to provide the best material to draw (lol) from. It seems I did just fine, based on how gorgeous this art is!! Of course, it's also Rosemary, and y'all know me and Rosemary lmao. Anyways, hope you enjoy this collaborative effort, and check out everyone else's projects too!

"I love you."

The room is quiet. The walls are too busy keeping the roof up to hold any secrets. The desaturated reddish-purple of the paint gives the room a sense of whimsical familiarity. The air, which only a moment ago was wrapped around the words as they traveled across the space between mouth and ear, has settled back into comfort. One might question if it had even moved at all.

Rose leans back into the couch, seemingly unaware of the silence she's just broken. Kanaya ceases her bustling about in the kitchen, mid-slice of an autumn-cultivated fructose lump. She's not normally this careless, but…

Rose looks up at the sound of footsteps to see her still-aproned wife looking at her with a shockingly sentimental expression. Naturally, her heart skips a beat. It always does. She may very well die of arrhythmia eventually.

Domestic fantasies of childhood flash through her head briefly as well, but there's no need for that now. Not when it's all standing right in front of her.

Oh, wait. Her fantasy housewife is speaking. Whoops.

Kanaya smirks, her fangs poking out onto her bottom lip. Rose tries very, very hard to concentrate on the  _ words  _ coming out between them.

"Okay, now that your mind is back from the skybound moisture manifestations, allow me to repeat myself." Rose blushes, but Kanaya's tone is affectionate and playful. "Firstly, I love you too. Secondly, it's...very nice to hear you say that in a moment of peace, and not when you're about to run off somewhere on twelve different godly errands."

Rose returns her smile softly. "I agree." She looks out the window. Outside is busy as always - not with people, but with an array of wildlife making a wider array of noises. Rose remembers how useless her and Kanaya were when their friends were building their house, a saccharine scene that one might find in the Droogle results for "idyllic" just below the literal definition. 

Kanaya was characteristically ambitious in her designs, with Rose supplying feedback and the occasional functionless bit of banter, but neither of them had the faintest idea how to build a house. No one else did, either, to be fair, but their combined powers at least made the whole ordeal easier. The forests surrounding their chosen location, a miraculously convenient clearing with just enough room for a two-person building and a decent backyard, held an ample supply of wood. Whatever couldn't be found naturally could be manifested by Roxy fairly easily. Meanwhile, John could handle the heavy lifting, wooshing things around and making speedy work of arranging the pieces as necessary.

Dave would then hop around imperceptibly, hammering and drilling with abandon, as Jade's keen spatial awareness directed him and John in such a way that, if Rose and Kanaya didn't know better, they would have sworn the end result was bigger on the inside. Karkat, meanwhile, hovered, offering well-intentioned if quite loud encouragement, and occasionally knocking Dave upside the head if he got too wrapped up in some sentimental soliloquy about the house being the lovechild of Jesus and Ty Pennington. All in all, it was a heartwarming if extremely difficult and somewhat amateur project.

The house was liveable, anyways, and that was all Rose and Kanaya really cared about - even if Kanaya's eye twitched every time she glanced at the accidental cubby they had created next to the master bedroom. It was too small to be functional, not to mention terribly positioned, but somehow, no matter what they did, it couldn't be removed without threatening the structural integrity of the southern wall. Eventually, they simply elected to paint over it and pretend it wasn't there.

That wasn't really what the house was about, anyhow.

Rose sets down the book she's been pretending to read, stretching across the couch as she shifts onto her side. Roxy had helped with the furniture as well, although that was left mostly up to the carapacians, some of whom were surprisingly talented at carpentry. Under Kanaya's discerning eye, they had created a cozy but eye-pleasing array of couches, chairs, tables and beds - the last being for the main and guest bedrooms, in case a friend were to stay over or one of the lovers were to fall sick or just need some space. Rose even has her own desk for all manner of late-night writings, whereas Kanaya has a functional but delightfully kitschy sewing table.

Rose's favorite piece, however (besides their bed, of course), is probably this couch. There's something so familiar and homey about couches, and this one is the best, most special couch, being custom made for her and the love of her many lives. It is a neutral, very couch-y brown, but against Kanaya's sensibilities, it holds one green pillow and one purple one (Kanaya will die before admitting she actually thinks it's pretty cute). Rose snuggles into it shamelessly, burrowing her head between the back and the seat cushions. She hasn't done such a thing since early childhood, and the darkness is like a sleep mask after a long day.

She blindly grasps one of the tasteless decorative pillows, cradling it to her chest. The darkness swims as her mind decides whether it might quiet down for a moment or not. The couch threatens to swallow her whole, but the void is warm and welcoming. It's as if Safety and Comfort had a baby that looks vaguely like their next door neighbor, Closure, but no one has said anything and none of their friends dare to point it out for fear of upsetting the delicate balance of their familial roleplay.

Rose makes a mental note, for the billionth time, to stop exhausting herself with overwrought metaphors.

Kanaya doesn't comment on her wife assuming the fetal position and spelunking into the couch. The migraines have only been getting worse. That was part of the reason they chose to make a home out in the wilderness, away from the pulsing cities and bustling towns. Rose refuses to cease living normally as long as she's able, but at this point she'll take darkness and quiet any place she can get it. Kanaya's admiration fails to outweigh her concern. Regardless, she moves back into the kitchen. "The weather's lovely today."

Rose's voice is muffled, but intelligible. "The weather? Is that how desperately far we've descended into domesticity? We're already middle-aged and silently begging each other to rekindle the spark that only young lovers in the throes of new passions may court into flame, whereas we might be so lucky as to - "

"Alright, alright! My mistake, miss budding socialite!" Kanaya chuckles. Rose certainly doesn't speak as though mentally troubled. Of course, she never does. "I was just thinking...perhaps, if you're feeling better than usual today, we could eat outside? With your anti-radiation protective lenses and hat, of course."

Silence falls again. Kanaya finishes slicing her apples, scraping the chunks into a bowl, and begins dousing them in a mixture of spices, allowing Rose a moment to ponder. She doesn't have to wait long.

"Yes. I'd like that very much, actually - but I  _ insist  _ on a red-and-white checkered blanket. If we're going to picnic, we're going to be absolutely postcard picturesque about it."

Kanaya laughs again, and there's something breathy in it, as if a weight had suddenly lifted from her lungs. Her smile remains as she sprinkles lemon juice on the slices. It's a quiet reflection of her thoughts as they turn to Rose, sitting in the soft evening light in her broad-brimmed, purple-ribboned sunhat, and her specially fitted, brown, round-framed lenses. She absentmindedly grabs a spatula, tossing the slices and fantasizing about Rose poised on the blanket, her legs sprawled out to her side as she props herself up with one hand, picking delicately at her food with the other.

She enjoys watching Rose eat. With Rose in such a state - gradually sharper bones stretching progressively more ashen skin, her eyes sometimes hidden in a subtle fog that Kanaya fears she can neither understand nor save her from - any miniscule indication of better health is met with deep gratitude. The light that flickers in Rose's eyes for just a moment as Kanaya presents her dinner spreads is so dearly precious, and Kanaya does her best not to consider the day that starlight may turn cold and foreign, or disappear entirely. It occurs to her then that the more quickly she finishes cooking, the more quickly she can stuff Rose full.

She snaps back to reality to see she's flung half the apples across the counter.

She fusses under her breath, hastily scooping the apples back into the bowl and wiping the counter off with a wet paper towel.

Rose, of course, hears her muttering with almost superhuman perception. "Okay in there, dearest?"

"Very much so, love." Kanaya sighs, pulling the dough for the crust out of the fridge and setting it on the pre-floured table. She splits the dough in two and rolls it out, half-expecting her wife to comment on her flexing muscles despite still being buried in the couch. Rose remains quiet, though. Kanaya finishes in short order, and moves both crusts successfully to the pan, with the apples tucked safely in between under a light blanket of butter pats. She slides the pie into the oven with another sigh, this one of relief.

"Perfect! This should be done in about an hour."

"I can taste it already."

Kanaya smiles to herself. She still loves fashion and has a keen sense for the aesthetic, but life on Earth C gives her a lot more leisure time for exploring other interests than Alternia would have ever afforded her. Certainly, she and Rose have their hands full in all senses keeping watch over the brooding caverns, but it's gotten much easier over the years, not in the least because they've been able to train other trolls to take some of their shifts (there was never a question of including other humans; it was doubtful they could get a human to so much as glance sideways at the cacophony of wildly iteroparous interbreeding). Nowadays, they even have space for the occasional day off, in which they are currently indulging.

Point being, this is how Kanaya has come to find a love of baking. Cooking, though…

Kanaya pauses. "Rose."

She hears shuffling as Rose finally pulls her face back into the open air. "Yes, Kanaya?"

"Since we are having a picnic anyway...would you mind our dinner being sandwiches?"

"Not at all." Rose stretches, her feet barely reaching halfway across the couch. "Sandwiches and pie sound perfect for a picnic."

"Wonderful." Kanaya opens the fridge, rummaging around in the produce drawers. "Would you prefer fruc- ahem. Would you prefer fruits or ve- vajuh-"

"Vegetables. The pie already has apples, so I think veggies will be a good contrast."

"Sensible." Kanaya pulls out a head of cauliflower, a head of broccoli, and some baby carrots, not at all embarrassed.  _ Well, human language is silly, anyhow _ , she thinks. "Any dip?"

"No, thank you. You know you don't have to translate for me."

Nope, she's definitely not embarrassed. Not in the slightest. What a ridiculous suggestion. "I know, I just -"

"You know our languages are quite similar. Where they aren't, I'm perfectly capable of using context to figure it out. If that doesn't work, I'll simply ask. If I don't have to change for you, then the reverse applies as well."

"Alright." Kanaya is humbled, as she usually is by conversations with her wife. They've had this discussion before, but Rose's voice never betrays annoyance or fatigue at her insecurities; rather, she takes a tone of a sort of...strict encouragement - patient, but unrelenting. Goodness, what a woman. Humming tunelessly, Kanaya grabs the cutting board and sets about chopping up the cauliflower into a neat pile of florets.

She slices deliberately, but the work is simple enough. She's reaching for the broccoli when Rose screams.

Kanaya drops her knife, running to her wife's side. Rose has curled back into fetal position, but now she's tense, frozen with her head in her hands and shaking slightly. Kanaya knows better than to touch Rose when she's like this, but damn, does she wish she could. Instead, she rushes to the curtains, drawing them shut. Rose cries out again, and Kanaya flinches, but she's definitely not panicking. Not at all. She's used to her wife screaming and twitching like she's being eaten alive from the inside. It's fine. Everything's fine.

The minutes stretch impossibly as Rose gradually (very, very gradually) grows quieter, moaning and whimpering like a dog gnawing off its own leg to escape a bear trap. Kanaya has already made herself busy collecting Rose's favorite pillow and blanket, her medications, her water bottle, her sleep mask, and her pleasant noise series replicator. Now comes her least favorite part, where there is nothing to do but sit. But sit she does. She sits, and she waits.

Eventually, her patience is rewarded, and while Rose's breathing is still ragged, she's mostly quiet. Kanaya reaches out, gently touching her shoulder blade. When she doesn't react, Kanaya rubs her back softly. It's much easier to wait when she can at least comfort her wife, knowing the worst is past. Rose's body relaxes uncertainly, but Kanaya continues tracing soft circles until Rose finally melts completely into her touch. Kanaya leans her head against Rose's back. "Hello, love."

Rose remains quiet for a few seconds, then replies weakly. "Hi."

"I'm here."

"Thank you."

They sit like this for a moment, listening to each other's breathing and the birds outside still chirping away as if nothing happened. Then Kanaya's nose snaps to attention.  _ The pie. _

"The pie!" Kanaya dashes back to the kitchen, slipping into oven mitts and yanking the oven door open in record time. The pie, she notes gratefully, seems unscathed. She pulls it out, setting it on the stovetop and shutting off the oven. She then moves it to a cooling rack. Satisfied, she tosses off the oven mitts and scurries back to her wife.

Rose, meanwhile, has shifted, rolling away from the couch to face the world once more. "Is it alright, dear?"

"You don't need to be worrying about that, love - but yes, it's just perfect." Kanaya sits on the floor by Rose's head, placing a hand on Rose's cheek. Rose happily nuzzles into it, and Kanaya wonders how it's possible to love someone so much. "How are you feeling?"

Rose laughs - a full, hearty laugh, which already means she's doing better. "Like someone took a sledgehammer to my skull a week ago and then stuffed my head with cotton-wrapped rocks."

Kanaya raises an eyebrow.

Rose sighs. "I'm okay."

"Good to hear." Kanaya deliberately does not turn to look at the curtained window. "So…" She kisses Rose on the forehead and both cheeks, eliciting a girlish giggle. "Here's what we're going to do."

It's Rose's turn to raise her eyebrows, but she stays quiet.

"I'm going to get a red and white checkered blanket, as per your request. I will lay it out right here on the living room floor."

Rose cringes. "Kanaya -"

"I am going to bring out all the food, and we are going to have an indoor picnic!" Kanaya's tone leaves no room for retort, and neither does her body, seeing as she immediately runs off to retrieve the aforementioned blanket. Rose groans, half wishing she had the energy to argue, half grateful she doesn't - not that she'll ever admit the second part. She shifts onto her back, pressing a pillow over her face to further express her disgruntled mood to the empty room.

"Oh, hush up." Kanaya returns bearing the traditional platform of all things picnic related. With a dramatic flourish, she flaps it out into the air, gently settling it onto the floor. Cloth of all sorts seems to bend to her will in a way it does for no one else, and Rose is often fascinated by her delicate touch. Rose also, of course, finds herself preoccupied thinking about the other things those hands handle so deftly. Right now, though, she doesn't have it in her to think about it. It's not really a good time for that, anyhow.

Soon enough, Kanaya has laid out everything on the floor. Rose's face betrays her exhaustion after coming down from her latest attack, but her eyes still sparkle when Kanaya settles by the far side of the blanket, beckoning Rose to join her. Rose gingerly slides her legs to the edge of the couch, but slips off a little too quickly, landing on her butt with a resounding thud. She laughs before Kanaya can say anything, and Kanaya's anxiety dies in her throat.

Rose scoots closer to the blanket like a toddler that hasn't quite learned to stand. "I suppose I just got too excited seeing this wonderful meal you've laid out for us, and my body couldn't keep up."

Kanaya smiles. "Well, please, take your time. It's not going anywhere, nor am I."

Rose pauses, her throat clenching around nothing. She speaks almost reverently, as a sinner to a saint. "I know."

After all this time, still neither of them are sure what to say. Rose, well versed in the art of breaking or ignoring awkward silences, just reaches for her sandwich and takes a bite. Kanaya's mouth twists subtly, but she picks up hers in turn. They're quiet for a few minutes as they make their way through the food. Eventually, Rose crunches the last bite of a piece of broccoli and leans back onto the couch. "That was lovely, dear. Thank you so much."

"Of course!" Kanaya beams, and Rose can't help smiling in return. "Just let me clear this out and we can have the pie, if you still want it."

Rose's smile grows. "You know I have a second stomach for sweets."

"Glad to hear it." Kanaya sets about closing up containers and running the food to the fridge. Rose stares in an indeterminate direction, her mind going every which way, but absolutely not thinking about how she wishes she could get up and help.

"Darling," Kanaya calls from the kitchen, "do you think I should cut the slices in here or just bring the whole pie out?"

Rose doesn't respond. Kanaya peeks around the corner. "Rose?"

Her breath catches as she sees Rose's head lolling back onto the cushion. She tiptoes over, lightly tapping Rose on the shoulder.

"Rose, dear?"

Still no response, but Rose's breathing is light and even. This has happened before, after an attack, more times than Kanaya can count, but it never hurts to be sure. She gives Rose a gentle shake, which finally rouses her.

"Hhrmph?"

The right corner of Kanaya's mouth lifts a tiny bit. "Let's get you to bed, love."

"Mmm."

Rose stands, leaning on Kanaya in a pose familiar for all the wrong reasons, and Kanaya leads her step by step to the guest bedroom, where the blinds are already pulled shut. Rose lets go of Kanaya at the doorway, trudging to the bed and crawling into it gratefully. She snuggles in under the covers, and Kanaya, satisfied, turns to retrieve the migraine-banishing items she'd brought to the living room earlier.

"Kan'yaaa."

Kanaya turns to see a Rose-shaped lump under the blankets. "Yes, Rose?"

"Love you."

Kanaya's heart melts like a candle - slow and comfortable, as if it was made to dissolve this way. "I love you too."

She trots off, gathering everything and bringing it back to the room before gently shutting the door on a conked-out Rose. She stands in the hallway for a moment, considering the evening ahead of her. Absentmindedly, she wanders back to the kitchen, only to be reminded of the pie still sat on the cooling rack. She touches the crust, and it proves to have reached room temperature. She wonders if they still have plastic wrap.

She glances back at the guest bedroom, then to the pie, which will be just as good tomorrow. She'll wrap it up neatly, and tomorrow, she'll cut Rose a slice, warm it up, perhaps add a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and that will (partially) be breakfast. Every day is special when you're living with the love of your life, damn it! There's no reason it shouldn't be that way. There's always tomorrow.

She does not cry. She balls her fists and bites her lip, her fangs drawing jade droplets from her skin, but she does not cry. She does not wish, for the millionth time, that there was more she could do. She does not wish, for the millionth time, that she could express to Rose that it's just a pie, and there's nothing to feel guilty about. She does not wish, for the millionth time, that Rose understood that sometimes, this is what love is, and that as long as Kanaya has a wife to tuck in and kiss on the head, she will never resent it, that it's not the same as before, that it's okay now, that it's okay to need things, that's it's okay to  _ want _ things, that she knows Rose loves her, that -

She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye before it can spill. She digs around in the pantry and quickly locates the plastic wrap. She wraps the pie. She replaces the wrap. She walks to the couch and sits, pulling one of the multitudinous books from the coffee table without looking, opening to a random page and reading without processing.

Eventually, her mind slows. The words begin to stick, and she reads to the end of the book. Upon finishing, she looks up, and the room is dark. She hadn't even noticed her night vision activating. She sets the book down, ambling to the window and peeking through the blinds to see the last remnants of the sunset clinging to the horizon. She stares until they fade into black, the moon making itself known.

When they all first arrived here, the sky was a strange and alien sight, but it's slowly grown to be a comfort. Kanaya was never a friend of the moon the way her compatriots were, but seeing as nothing on this planet was actively threatening to kill them anymore, it wasn't difficult to become familiar with it. More than anything, though, it was a reminder. It represented something large, powerful, and inevitable, time after time. Kanaya smiled.

There's  _ always  _ tomorrow.


End file.
